


Promise

by nastally



Series: Dawn of Aquarius Multiverse [7]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Freddie Mercury Lives, Growing Old Together, Happy Ending, I Made Myself Cry, Inspired by..., M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally
Summary: In 2015, Freddie and Roger prepare for a big event the following day...
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: Dawn of Aquarius Multiverse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030740
Comments: 31
Kudos: 39
Collections: The Froger Week 2020





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dawn of Aquarius](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372263) by [nastally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally). 



> Right, so, as [you already know going by this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27528046/chapters/67320883) I'm kind of a subscriber to the multiverse theory and... somewhere the Dawn of Aquarius universe ends like this. (No need to have read it.)
> 
> Prompt: Growing Old
> 
> Thank you very much for a quick, last-minute, late night beta, QuirkySubject! 😂 ❤️

**2015  
London, Kensington**

\- - - 

"Now, keys… keys… Where'd I leave the keys for the Porsche?" Roger's voice announces him before he enters the living room for the third time, only to walk back out again, probably having remembered. Or not, Freddie thinks when he hears muffled voices in the kitchen next. 

"Aha!" comes Roger's victorious exclamation from just outside the room moment's later. 

"Found them?" Freddie inquires absently, raising his voice just enough to be heard while he squints at the handful of notes he's holding out at arm's length. 

"Yes! They were on the sideboard."

"Sideboard," Freddie murmurs as Roger says it. They will have usually ended up on the sideboard, where the mail and paperwork which needs looking at collects, too. But Roger will walk past them five times because in all his long life he hasn't yet learned to look _under_ things. He's on his own there, Freddie won't even begin to attempt telling apart and keeping track of his various car keys, remembering which is which. 

Peering through his reading glasses which are perched on the end of his nose, Freddie's frown deepens and the corners of his mouth pull down, his own handwriting annoyingly blurry on the page. It's the lack of light. Too dark in here this late in the afternoon. 

"Put the lights on, dear, will you?" he asks of Roger when his partner comes back into the room again, huffing out a breath as though he's finally all set to go, after pottering around for the last hour or so. Half of their lives are spent searching and remembering these days, Freddie thinks sometimes. _Where did I leave it again? Who was it that told me? Oh, remember that party, we had a ball of a time with… what were their names? Why were we there that day and were you wearing that ridiculous leopard print thing, darling, do you remember?_

It's all still there, of course, somewhere in their heads. A mosaic of memories shared. A marvellous, colourful picture, even if they can no longer spot all the details from afar.

Roger turns on the light, leaves his overnight bag by the door and hangs the suit up on the hat stand. It's only because Freddie knows he would never leave without a kiss goodbye that he doesn't look up yet, still studying his handwritten notes as Roger comes up behind the sofa and leans over. And presses a kiss to his cheek. 

"You need new glasses," Roger tells him quietly, drawing back with a knowing smirk when Freddie self-consciously lowers the notes and turns to look at him. Over the top of his current glasses, which are still perfectly fine, thank you very much. "Don't pout," Roger adds, and pecks him on the lips, still smiling. Freddie can feel his face soften. 

"Are you off?" He knows perfectly well that he has spent the last half an hour thinking Roger was being terribly distracting. Wishing he'd get on with it and stop running up and down the house, mumbling to himself - only now that he's leaving, Freddie finds he doesn't want him to go. 

"Ready as I'll ever be." Roger nods and grimaces a little. "Not forgetting anything important, I hope." He straightens up and checks his pockets, turning to look at the suit hanging by the door in its protective cover. It's Versace and white like Freddie's. Only the cut differs, tailored to their individual wishes. 

Roger looks regal in his. 

"Will you sit with me?" Freddie takes off his glasses when his partner looks back at him, and inclines his head a little guiltily. "Just a minute." 

It never quite goes away, that niggling feeling that he should not _need_ this like he does, always. Attention and affirmation and love. When Roger is still here, after all, and has proven to him time and again that he wouldn't be anywhere else for the world. And he continues to prove it, settling down beside him without so much as an impatient sigh, one arm sliding around his shoulders. Leaning into the other man's warmth, Freddie lowers his eyes. It is chilly tonight, and he does hope it won't rain tomorrow. Although some say that's lucky. 

"Hey." Roger squeezes his upper arm where his hand comes to rest, hugging him a little closer. "Something wrong, love?" 

"Can't you stay," the words come out quietly, through a smile, as though it's perhaps only in jest. Freddie lays his head down on Roger's shoulder. He knows he's being terribly silly. 

"This was your idea," Roger sounds rightfully amused, but turns his head and plants a fleeting kiss on Freddie's head anyway. 

"I know, I know…" Freddie sighs, a victim of his own whimsical nature. "Well, I've changed my mind," he informs Roger, a little petulantly, cross with his past self for making such disagreeable decisions. 

"I'll stay if you really want me to." Roger sounds a little exasperated, which is fair, Freddie supposes. After all he has packed and Brian and Anita are expecting him. He's probably thinking about having to ring them up, 'Oh, well, you know what Freddie's like-' 

"No, no, you're quite right. It's all arranged," Freddie says firmly and lifts up his head, giving Roger's knee a pat as he nods in the vague direction of the kitchen, from which delicious smells are emanating. "And Phoebe's here," he points out. "I don't want to make a fuss. You should go, darling."

"I could stay," Roger offers, looking at him intently until Freddie looks back. His eyes are gentle and kind under his bushy brows. He doesn't look annoyed now and Freddie relaxes and smiles, a little. 

"Do you want to?" Perhaps, like himself, Roger has suddenly realised that he wants nothing more than to cuddle up in bed together soon after dinner, gathering their strength for what will surely be an exciting but exhausting day. 

"Well, yes…" Roger smiles back and pulls his arm away, shifting on the sofa to better face Freddie. "But it's also…" He shrugs, running his fingers over the short salt and pepper hair at the side of Freddie's head, just above his ear. "I have to admit I quite liked the idea myself."

"Oh?" That's a bit rich, given that Roger's first reaction had been to laugh at him and call him 'sweet' in a way that had earned him a decorative cushion to the face. 

"Not seeing you," Roger goes on, his warm fingers now on Freddie's cheek, his coarse thumb stroking his cheekbone, and Freddie can't help but lean into the touch. "Not spending the morning together, that is. Until we walk into that room," Roger says quietly, and waggles his eyebrows, his smile turning playful, eyes crinkling. "Like seeing each other for the first time again." 

Freddie laughs softly, turning his head to kiss the palm of his partner's hand as he takes it in his own and brings it down onto his lap. 

"My, my." His eyes linger there, on their joint hands. Callouses and thick, stiff knuckles and liver spots. It's a little sad, to notice these things, as one does. But not as much as he had feared. A sense of melancholy, more than anything, and underneath it the warm glow of the knowledge that it is all a mark of a long life lived - together. "You've turned into quite the romantic." Freddie quirks an eyebrow. "In your old age."

"Excuse me," Roger protests, pretending to be affronted. "I've always been a romantic." 

That is not the part Freddie expected him to dispute, which only makes it more amusing. "Is that right?" 

They chortle and sit holding hands for a moment, listening to the sound from the kitchen and the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, where it lives between photographs from years gone by. Oversized sombreros, faded Polaroids and a digital frame cycling through images from an island holiday several summers ago. 

"I learned to cook pasta just to wine and dine you, I seem to recall," Roger points out, peering over at him. The smile on Freddie's face must be a bemused one, because he doesn't quite know what Roger is talking about. 

"Don't you remember?" Roger asks, pale eyes growing larger when he raises his eyebrows. "I'd bought glasses for the wine, too, with my last bit of dosh. We had it all on a cardboard box," he gestures at the coffee table with his free hand, smiling fondly at the memory. "And we sat on the floor because there wasn't a table… or a wardrobe!" 

"Oh, that old place," Freddie finally remembers, eyes growing a little misty. "Goodness me." 

Roger gives an appreciative hum, perhaps still thinking of that evening. That night. They must have made love, although Freddie can't recall now. But it's a safe assumption, in those days. _Fighting and fucking with no end in sight_ , he thinks, and squeezes Roger's hand with a smirk. 

"And I proposed, I'd say that's pretty romantic," Roger argues, interrupting his train of thought.

"What?" Freddie blinks at him, unable to connect those words with the distant past. "When?" 

"What d'you mean, when-" His partner starts, frowning with confusion, before realisation dawns on his face. "Ah, no, I mean!" He laughs, shaking his head. "I mean _now_ , Freddie. As in earlier this year." 

"Oh!" Freddie's hand flies up to his mouth just briefly as he, too, laughs. Old habits die hard. "I was about to say, surely I would have remembered that!" 

"No, I can't imagine it would've crossed my mind to do that, then." Roger shakes his head, still grinning, and looks down at Freddie's hand in his. "Although I do remember…"

"Hm?" Freddie watches him cradle his hand in both of his, lips pursed in thought. "What?" 

"Nothing." Roger sighs and looks up at him. "Just being awfully young… and awfully in love."

It's lovely that even after all these years, Freddie's heart still fills with so much warmth so suddenly, at times, as though it's close to bursting. Because wrinkled skin and snow-white hair makes no difference to what he sees before him. The same spark in those blue eyes, the same passion, the same boy underneath it all, who he has loved all but from the very first moment they first stepped into each other's lives. Although it took them long enough to realise how much that was worth. 

Wisdom comes with hindsight, and still, Freddie would not change a thing, because they have arrived here. And so they must have done something right, he thinks, leaning into a slow, leisurely kiss. 

"Right," Roger murmurs as they pull apart. "Am I leaving then?" 

"Yes, I think you'd better," Freddie smirks, because if they continue to kiss like this he'll never let him go. Perhaps realising that, too, Roger releases his hand and shifts away a bit, pointing to the notes Freddie is still holding. 

"Is this your speech?" 

"Mmh." Freddie nods and sighs, putting his reading glasses back on. "You'd think I'd find it easier to remember."

This doesn't seem a matter for concern to Roger, who to Freddie's knowledge hasn't even penned anything down. 

"Wing it," he suggests, waving a dismissive hand. "It's only friends and family." 

"I'd rather do it properly," Freddie tells him with a shake of his head and a sideways glance. "Even if it is only for a small handful of people." 

"It's not _such_ a small handful," Roger replies, having caught his meaning, of course. After all, this had been their main source of arguments for several months. "If it was up to me we'd be in Vegas right now, you know that." 

"I do know that." 

"Besides, you're the one who said you'd liked how intimate Elton and David's ceremony was." 

"Elton had five thousand red roses," Freddie points out with a little sniff. 

"And you have me!" Roger retorts, spreading his arms out and leaning back a bit, and it makes Freddie smile despite himself. "And you've got Lady Gaga as part of the entertainment," he adds, raising an eyebrow at Freddie. 

"Well, you know, she did offer," Freddie says defensively with a flick of his wrist. "I wasn't going to say _no_!" 

Roger just laughs as he gives his knee a squeeze. "It'll be wonderful, don't worry. All of it." 

He's right, of course. Roger is often right, not that Freddie will admit it much. "It's silly, isn't it." 

"What."

Words of gratitude, trying to be meaningful, blur on the page before him as he gazes at them tiredly. "It doesn't mean anything, not really." Before his partner can take it the wrong way, Freddie looks up and gives him a smile. "I've thought of you as my husband for decades."

Roger returns his smile and leans close again, but it's Freddie's cheek his lips find as a different thought that has been lingering on Freddie's mind makes him turn aside. 

"I wonder…" Freddie starts, and trails off. 

Oh no, not that now. Why start with that? But he has started and Roger asks, of course, hand resting soothingly on Freddie's knee.

"Tell me." 

Freddie gives a brief shake of his head and waves his fingers dismissively. "Oh, it's stupid really." It is. He knows it. And yet, there are things which linger, which run deep and cut to the very core, refusing to be shaken. "It's only that I… I wonder, you know." He scratches the tip of his nose with one finger, frowning down at his speech. The words come out a little rushed."What my father would have made of it. Would he have come if he were alive today, that sort of thing."

"Freddie…" 

He interrupts Roger, because he doesn't really need compassion or for Roger to be concerned with it, perhaps he really just needed to have said it. "But I'm glad, really," he follows up quickly, "that he isn't. Don't worry." Looking back up at the man he'll be legally marrying tomorrow, Freddie raises his chin defiantly. "I won't mope over something so inconsequential. Not on my wedding day." 

Besides, Kash and his mother will be there, and that has to be enough. That is more than he could have ever hoped for, many years ago. 

"Just remember we're not doing it for anyone but us," Roger reminds him, and manages to steal another kiss, affectionately gazing down his nose at him as he pulls away. "I love you." 

Freddie opens his mouth to respond in kind, but then hesitates. Wonders if he dare say something he hasn't in a very long time. Because he hasn't needed to ask any more. But tonight, perhaps, for old times sake. 

"Promise?" he murmurs, a smile playing around his lips.

There's a flash of teeth, mirth and fondness in Roger's eyes. "Always," he whispers. 

Freddie has to swallow and take his glasses off again, all of a sudden. 

"I love you, too," he says, half smiling, half tearing up and pushing Roger away gently when he hugs him and kisses his temple. "Now get out already, I'm a mess." 

Once he's got his jacket on, his bag over one shoulder and the suit in hand, Roger looks back. 

"Call me, yeah? If anything comes up. I'll have my phone on."

"I will," Freddie promises. 

"Alright, love." Roger nods and gives him a wink as he opens the door. "See you tomorrow." 

"See you tomorrow. Drive carefully!" Freddie calls, just after the door has shut, and looks at it for another minute or two before he puts his glasses back on and turns to his notes once more. 

Phoebe walks in only a moment later, holding a bottle of wine and a dishcloth. "Has Roger gone? I was just about to ask if I should dish up for him." 

"No, he's gone now," Freddie confirms, looking up at him. "I'm afraid it's just us girls." 

"Is this the part where it's been left up to the wise old spinster to talk you through the wedding night?" Phoebe jokes and Freddie laughs out loud, throwing his head back, and then pulls off his glasses again to deposit them on the coffee table. Maybe he will just wing the bloody thing after all. 

Phoebe raises an eyebrow, and the bottle of wine with it. "A little tipple for the blushing bridegroom?" 

"Oh, why not, darling," Freddie assents with a wave of his hand. "Do go on. Just a small one."

There is cause for celebration, after all. Tomorrow is not a day that will ever be repeated, not in this life. And knowing that with great certainty, he is glad. 

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> Gay marriage was legalised in 2014 in England. That year Elton and David got married.  
> Lady Gaga has, to my knowledge, taken inspiration from Freddie Mercury and is a fan.
> 
> By the way, I am 100% planning on catching up on and reading as much Froger fic as I possibly can and also replying to all the comments! It's just I've got a very busy weekend, but I cannot wait to read it all! ♥️


End file.
